Chapter 4. Keeping in Check (6)

Jieun left the office looking utterly drained.

James, who had been quietly watching her retreating back, swiftly took his seat and picked up the telephone.

Telephone was the word for it, though in nearly every respect it looked nothing like an Earth model. Had Jieun laid eyes on it, she would surely have thought it looked like something only a proper villain would use.

It was rather retro, too — black all over, with wires snaking out here and there, and something jutting up from the top like a pair of devil's horns. It gave the impression of one of those stun devices you see in the media, fitted with a nineties cell phone screen and buttons.

Calmly, James pressed several of the buttons in sequence, then set the device down on his desk.

A moment later, an image bloomed to life. Light fanned out radially from the device's screen, weaving itself into a three-dimensional figure.

Technically speaking, it was the kind of thing called a hologram.

Not that the three-dimensional aspect amounted to much, given how blurry the figure on display was.

The hologram existed for the sake of how the device operated, nothing more. Like a military radio, it connected directly on a dedicated signal, no relay in between — that was the device's true value.

"Chairman, did you see it?"

James asked. It was phrased as though the other party had heard every word of the conversation just now.

The 'Chairman' answered. The voice came through distorted as well, making it impossible to tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman.

"Indeed."

James spoke, lips working — the face of a man barely holding back a laugh that might burst out of him then and there.

"Until now, the emotion called Despair has lagged behind Hope in efficiency. Its one virtue was that it could be manufactured anywhere."

Noir Corporation had focused on the latter. And it was thanks to that very choice that they had been able to talk the governments of this world around.

When the economic indicators soured. When people felt the sting of inequality. When they were scraping by on barely enough to eat. When war broke out. When the news warned of worsening pollution—

There was no shortage of ways to make a person despair.

If anything, the methods were too commonplace, and to a degree they had gone chronic, so no single one yielded stellar efficiency — but by the same token, even when the world slid toward its very worst, the energy never ran dry. Efficiency only climbed, and that was what had drawn their attention.

And those wealthy enough to escape every one of those misfortunes could bask in riches drawn from the energy of everyone else's despair — never mind that they contributed nothing whatsoever to producing it. You can sell air, but not the wind; you can sell water, but not the waves. One way or another, they fattened their fortunes reselling the products manufactured from the surplus energy the world left lying around.

Noir Corporation's plan was to export the surplus of that energy beyond the stars.

Their rejection of Hope had come down to very simple logic: the market economy. An oil field gushing crude turns a far greater profit than a case of finely polished gems.

And so—

"This incident was beyond prediction. It is proof that a specific human can drive a circuit's efficiency to its absolute limit — far enough to burn the circuit out entirely. We may even find she can draw out efficiency on par with Hope itself."

Despair was easy to manufacture.

But neither could it simply be beaten out of people with fists alone. There was a reason Noir Corporation had gone to the trouble of coaxing governments in the first place.

Those in despair must not give up.

Because giving up is despair's final destination. Like an oil field pumped dry, no energy could be drawn from a human who had lost the will to live and abandoned everything.

"Uncovering the secret behind that efficiency will likely become our research objective."

"Of course."

"We'll find out by interrogating the researchers. Though I hardly have the stomach for anything too severe."

"Leave it to me."

At James's answer, the 'Chairman' severed the connection.

James turned and looked down.

It was late, and still a weekday, yet a fair number of people still walked the streets below. With so many workplaces nearby, some might be nursing a drink on the way home from work; others might be tourists who had taken leave to travel.

If every last one of these humans could develop an efficiency like hers, how vast the profits would be.

Resting a hand against the window, James gazed down at them for a long, long while.

That day, I stopped by the Night Treatment Clinic for a checkup, then went home to the orphanage.

The caregiver looked like she had plenty she wanted to say when she saw me, but one glance at my face and she seemed to swallow it all back.

I told her I was sorry and headed straight for the showers.

I had zero desire to wash, but I'd come straight from sprinting myself half to death, and there was no getting around it entirely. So I took a cursory shower and got out, scrubbing properly only my face, hands, and feet.

I couldn't manage a real dinner, but I did brush my teeth, then trudged to the room.

My bedding was already laid out. Just as I'd predicted, Jihye was already under her covers.

Without a word, I slipped into my own and lay down.

"……"

For a while I just lay there with my eyes closed. Sleep wasn't going to come easily.

Maybe it was the aftermath of getting so worked up in the fight — my body was dead tired, yet sleep refused to come.

"……Rough day?"

I was lying there quietly, eyes shut, when Jihye asked.

She had no way of knowing what I actually did. For all she knew, I really might be seeing a boyfriend.

Did I look like I'd come home from a fight tonight?

"……Honestly? Kind of."

Before I knew it, the answer had come out with a sigh attached.

Jihye, who'd been lying with her back to me, rolled over to face me. I, as always, lay staring at the ceiling.

"I don't really know what it is you're up to," Jihye said. "But you don't have to try so hard, you know?"

"You think?"

"Well…… yeah."

She definitely thought this was about dating.

Maybe she had more she wanted to say — her mouth opened and shut a couple of times — but in the end Jihye lay back and stared at the ceiling, same as me.

It was the same ceiling we'd been looking at all these years.

Jihye had been at my side ever since I was fished out of a Baby Box in this world. There was a reason we both bore the surname Jeong and had such similar names.

She was a child from outside the story — and that was exactly why I could never quite bring myself to see this world as nothing more than a novel.

"Was meddling a mistake?"

The silence that followed must have started to chafe, because Jihye asked it carefully.

"No. I think you're allowed to say that much."

Because she didn't know.

And because I had no intention of telling her.

What would Jihye say, I wondered, if she knew?

Hayun would probably try to talk me into quitting on the spot, but somehow I had a feeling Jihye would be a little different.

Even knowing that I'd dragged her into this, would she still take my side all the same?

I was still turning those thoughts over when I came to — and it was morning.

Apparently I'd drifted off at some point. That trivial half-asleep chatter, so utterly ordinary, must have been what finally loosened the knot inside me.

"Hey. Hey."

I lay there, unable to properly open my eyes even in the sunlight, until Jihye jabbed me in the side with her foot.

"Get up. You skipping breakfast?"

"Skipping it……"

"And then you'll go dragging yourself around whining all day again?"

You're a high schooler — why do you sound exactly like a mom?

In the end, I couldn't withstand Jihye's assault and hauled myself up.

Breakfast was bean-sprout soup that tasted like not much of anything.

……When is this performance bonus coming through, anyway?

That was when meals — breakfast or otherwise — might actually start tasting like something.

I thought that as I slopped my rice into the broth and poured the whole mess down my throat.

Today, too, the girl who used to torment me didn't show.

But my mind was fairly at ease. I knew neither she nor that woman calling herself her mother would be coming after me again.

Truthfully, I'd overdone it yesterday, and my body ached all over. Wounds could be treated, but pulled muscles, apparently, were beyond anyone's help.

"Jieun."

"Gah!?"

Hayun had slipped up beside me and hooked her arm through mine, and the yelp escaped me before I could stop it.

Hayun, mid-touch, flinched hard and snatched her hand back.

Ah.

She wasn't usually the one to make the first move, but ever since that trip, this sneaking-up business had been happening a lot. Did she figure we'd gotten closer?

Though now that I'd startled her so badly, Hayun seemed to be agonizing over whether she was even allowed to touch me again.

"Ah— no, no, it's nothing."

I shook my head quickly.

"I slept wrong last night. Guess I've got a bit of muscle soreness."

"It's not because of me, right?"

"Of course not."

At that, Hayun seemed relieved and pressed in close. She didn't link arms this time, but she laid her arm lightly against mine and sat tucked against my side.

"Want a bite?"

I held out the bread in my hand toward her. Hayun shook her head — then,

"Mm."

she said, and took a small bite anyway.

"Doesn't taste great, does it?"

Of all the corner-store breads, I'd happened to pick one of the genuinely terrible ones. It was supposedly some kind of sandwich, but there was only a thin smear of peanut sauce in the middle, wrapped in dry, crumbly bargain-bin white bread.

And yet even at that, Hayun shook her head.

"……Is something weighing on you?"

I asked, as casually as I could manage.

Hayun's expression dimmed a little.

I hadn't seen her yesterday. The magical girls who faced me had been Iris and Rose, start to finish.

Had trouble broken out in several places at once? Or had she simply deployed late over some personal matter?

"No. It's nothing."

Hayun said it with a smile pinned to the corner of her mouth.

It meant she wasn't going to tell me.

"……"

Of course she couldn't.

Not about how the magical girls had failed yesterday.

It hadn't made the news at all today. Even the subsidiary site of Noir Corporation — the one that always inflated the tiniest success into a headline — had said nothing whatsoever.

Or were they quiet precisely because it had succeeded?

It was a little chilling.

Hayun rested her face lightly against my shoulder.

"……Does this hurt too?"

"No."

Honestly, it stung a bit, but I pretended it didn't.

……I had things I was hiding from Hayun, too.

For a long while, Hayun stayed like that — eyes closed, head on my shoulder.

In the end, I left the bread unfinished.

Leaving bread I'd bought with my own money just because my appetite had died — the usual me would never have done such a thing.

A week later, I was summoned to headquarters again.

If I was supposedly such an important person, you'd think they could occasionally come pick me up or pay me a visit themselves — but even mid-thought, I'd arrive at the same conclusion: this was for the best.

However those people tried to make contact, the ending was always the same: their identities would show. Nothing to be done about it.

Heaving sigh after sigh, all I could do was hope this time, at least, wouldn't be another operation.

……And I also hoped it wouldn't involve being trotted out into some auditorium to applause, the way it went last time.

Fortunately, today I was once again called directly to James's office.

"I called you in to discuss the equipment you returned last time."

James got right down to business. There was anticipation in his voice. Was he that invested in this new gear?

"Don't tell me you're about to ask me to cover the equipment costs—"

"Of course not. What do you take our company for?"

James said, dead serious.

Hmm.

A company that drags people in at any hour, weekends included; ships them out on jobs that could break every limb in their body without so much as a proper briefing; and — my own terms being unusually generous — runs most of its combatants as day laborers with no regular employment whatsoever. That was what I took it for.

Naturally, I couldn't say any of that to an executive's face, so I simply kept my mouth shut.

"More to the point — have a look at this."

James said, gesturing to the sofa.

He was at least mindful of his rank, so I waited for him to sit first, then slowly settled into the seat across from him.

It wasn't as if I lacked reasons to feel awkward anyway — I had, after all, once taken a swing at the back of the very chair James was sitting in while screaming my head off.

This time, too, James pushed a carrier case of sorts toward me, just as before.

Only this one was bigger than the last.

"This piece is custom-made."

I didn't open it right away, just eyed the case with a certain wariness.

"I knew from the moment I first scouted you that you would succeed like this."

For all this success, my own pockets hadn't fattened ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one bit — but the orphanage's were about to, so I bit back the jab.

"Your record over the past three years was already quite respectable, but your exploits these past few weeks cannot be captured in full by the word 'brilliant.' I offer my tribute to the courage of Miss Jeong Jieun."

And when he bowed his head toward me, I hurriedly bowed mine in return.

This feels a little awkward. Whatever's in the case, outwardly he's a foreigner uncle well past forty.

"And so, we intend to equip you with gear worthy of that courage."

"Hence 'custom-made,' you're saying?"

"That's right."

"In one week?"

"……"

James's gaze slid away.

So it already existed.

Even so, it probably wasn't a complete lie. Prototype or not, the 'circuit for charging stronger energy' itself had most likely been in development for a while — a shelved project, perhaps, abandoned for want of anyone suitable to use it.

Well, tokusatsu villains pull out whole sets of upgraded equipment in a single week all the time, so looking at it that way, it wasn't all that strange.

"Go on — open it."

With that, James glossed over the explanation.

Silently, I reached for the case.

The instant my hand touched it, the case let out a beep. Recognizing the tone as the very same warning chime from inside my helmet, I could only marvel at this company's spirit of thrift.

What I drew out was — a black outfit.

Still very much the skin-tight sort.

But—

"We made the top and bottom a single piece to improve the efficiency of energy circulation. With no gaps, a great deal of energy lingers in the suit. Ordinarily, that is actually a poison."

Meaning that even at maximum capacity, it couldn't all be put to use?

The outfit I was looking at was a jumpsuit.

It fit a little better than the last one, yet somehow managed to look baggy. How to put it — even set side by side with what I'd worn before, it was a toss-up which one was tackier.

Layered over it was one more garment, something like a flight jacket. That part resembled the leather jacket I'd worn last time, so no real complaints there.

If nothing else, the uniformly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠black palette kept the whole ensemble from looking outright bizarre. I suppose.

"The circuit has been upgraded as well. Its charge capacity is double the last. At the very least, this time it will not run wild and detonate on you first."

"……"

Hold on. I caught myself wondering whether I could actually put this to reliable use.

Honestly, I wasn't so sure. Even that hundred percent had only been reached because every condition happened to align perfectly; I'd never imagined it would overflow past that.

Could I really squeeze ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠proper efficiency out of this suit?

"And this helmet."

James said. "Care to try it on?"

I obediently put the helmet on. He wasn't going to let me leave until the explanation was over anyway.

I hadn't installed a circuit, so the figure was only natural.

But.

"Even without a circuit installed, the helmet operates on its own."

James said, a smile spreading clear across his face.

On my visor, the results of its analysis of James's face appeared.

Every entry said nothing but 'presumed.'

I did wonder — if it scanned a genuine Earthling, would it simply read 'Earthling'? Not that that seemed likely to be useful. My missions weren't usually the sort that involved tracking down ordinary people.

"It carries cutting-edge tech for reading an opponent's condition with certainty. When we analyzed the footage from your last helmet, we saw you striking the enemy's weapon to open a weakness — this will serve exactly that sort of strategy."

That had just kind of happened by accident. Less that I'd aimed for it than that Iris had panicked and blocked with her weapon. It probably wouldn't work twice.

"And most importantly — even with no energy in the circuit, it runs on the user's own energy. Given sufficient aptitude, it can be used entirely standalone, without a circuit."

"Ah."

So that's how it was.

The old helmet definitely couldn't be used on its own.

It might be useful, I supposed…… depending on how it was used.

The question was whether I'd ever actually have occasion to wear just this, without the suit. It wasn't as if I went around advertising that I was a combatant.

Iris had managed to identify me from nothing but scratches on a helmet, after all.

……No, wait — flip it around, and it might come in handy if I ever needed to cover my face in a hurry. Assuming I happened to be carrying the helmet, that is.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"What do you think? It can also carry double the batteries."

"That's good."

I nodded. Satisfied by my answer, James nodded back and said,

"Sooner or later, there will be an opportunity to field-test the equipment. When that time comes, I trust you will perform splendidly in it. Should your results improve beyond even your current record, then naturally, the terms on which we support you will improve as well."

"……"

"……Separate from the suit, another reward has been prepared. We intend to double the frequency of the donations. How does that sound?"

"That's good."

Only after hearing that did I repeat myself, word for word.

Right — a company equipment upgrade is not, no matter how you look at it, a 'reward.'